


Timelessness (Immortal Remix)

by roguefaerie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Coming Untouched, Consort to the Ruler of Hell Dean Winchester, Dark, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dimension Travel, Immortality, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Mental Link, Ruler of Hell Sam Winchester/Consort Dean Winchester, Season/Series 09, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Sibling Incest, Soul Bond, Time Travel, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguefaerie/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Dean and Sam have fallen out of time, and maybe they were always meant for this in the end.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73
Collections: Octobercest 2020!, Remix Revival 2020 Madness





	Timelessness (Immortal Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Falling Further](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124064) by [StripySock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/pseuds/StripySock). 
  * In response to a prompt by [StripySock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/pseuds/StripySock) in the [remixmadness2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Previous remix: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182141 (Situational Failure (The Chicken Soup Remix) - Sam/Cas)
> 
> No safe works, remixes of other fandoms I've written but not requested above are absolutely fine

The silvery shock of the cord always leads to Sam. It leads across dimension and it leads across time. So what does it matter if Sam has wings of bone and has come to be as immortal as Dean is? They’re not even two sides of the same coin; they can be as close to being Cain and Abel now as they ever were Before.

There was a Before for Sam, though it was only six months long, and there was a Before for Dean, carrying the infant forward who would bear the wings, who would always be able to join him in Hell.

They were two bits of silver on the same head of one coin. They were a snake eating its tail. They were damned to motel rooms and damned inside of them, and now Sam was as he was always meant to be, the King of Hell despite decades of trying not to let it happen. Despite going to Hell and back, Purgatory and back (and Purgatory was worse, because he was forgotten, forgotten) to make it all stop.

But there was no way to stop a Winchester from living, in the end. 

And if Dean fell through a portal, Sam caught him. Sam was always there on the other side of the silver string to hell and back. To hell and back. To hell and back. No matter where Dean went in time or when he fell through what dimension. He always went back to Sam. Everything always led back to Sam.

If Dean had wanted anything else, he couldn’t have gotten it. But oh. There were things he did want, and the main one he wanted was Sam. 

He couldn’t think of many other things half the time. He just knew deep down in his soul that he would always be able to find Sam, and that his body and mind would always answer to Sam’s call. 

That Sam was the King of Hell didn’t matter. It never had, once it was finally done. Dean had known for so long now that there was only one, inevitable, way for this to go. There had been echoes of it all along his life path, whether he was in the present or escaping to the past or future.

He could no more be Sam’s enemy than he could resist being his lover.

And so at the end of time, when it had no meaning whatsoever anymore, with them both outside of it, Dean fell into Sam’s arms yet again.

He let his body shake with the unquenchable need that was still there, no matter anything else. 

And when he felt the inevitable pressure of Sam’s bony, ever-present wings against his flesh, felt Sam _using_ them, felt Sam _knowing_ they were there but _knowing_ Dean too, from the inside, if Dean’s reality started to break the slightest bit he would fend off surprise.

There was only Sam. And there was hell. And there was Sam. And Sam inside of him--physically, yes, but mentally holding court, knowing he was the King and that Dean was his.

And Dean would let it be. The bond was there, at the level of the soul, tying them together in mind and body as well, so that all of him undulated when Sam spoke. 

Dean would let it happen. And Sam would always catch him.

Across time. Across dimension. Across hope, and with hope still in their hearts, because they had each other in the end, no matter where they came from or where they went to. 

The one thing Dean feared, in the end, was losing Sam, and it was not to be.

He didn’t fear the wings. He didn’t let himself. If they were hard as they pressed into his flesh he would relish it. They were part of Sam.

He had signed up for this in so many ways and with the last fear gone maybe he would lose himself. 

Maybe he would.

Or maybe he would find himself, again. In Sam’s arms. Always in Sam’s arms, and with a place beside him in Hell, mark or no mark, the gates blasted open long ago and Dean long past caring, when dreams and hallucinations blended seamlessly with reality and Dean--simply--was.

He was Sam’s Consort, and he relished it now; the fearlessness of it, the inevitability of it, the quiet _(regret)_ that would be no more, because this was his place, beside the King.

Even now he felt an amazing need to let Sam know, to let them all know: how much he needed Sam, a truth that reverberated through all of him.

He would allow Sam to pull this truth, ever-present, from him and know it as he always had. It was still as fresh as it ever was, holding them together in the infinity of the reality of it.

Here he was in Sam’s arms again and he let his body accept it once more, knowing what would come next, feeling all the familiar sensations as arousal and recognition rippled through him. Sam would smile, every time, and he did again, knowing that Dean was his.

He took up his rightful place inside of Dean’s mind, and the ripples became a tide, and the tide grew faster and faster. 

_You’re home_ Sam said inside of Dean’s head, and all regrets, all thoughts, ceased.

There was only the suddenness of Dean’s orgasm, fast and dark and right and his. Sam was his and he was Sam’s.

The sound of Sam’s voice brought Dean into himself and settled him. They needed no other words, only the touches they had all of the time in the world to learn. 

Dean didn’t speak--in Sam’s mind or otherwise. He was long past those things when he neared Sam. He was familiar enough with the machinations of hell that he did not need his voice to navigate.

He held his knife.

The hallucination he had when he first bore the mark became reality, quickly, and stayed that way. 

And perhaps Dean grew to like the reality he had created. He knew that Sam did, and that the universe had given it to them. And the princes and dukes of hell let them be, their eyes shining golden and their smiles full of knowing.

Perhaps Sam and the one with the Mark of Cain were fallen.

And perhaps in the cold of hell they had found where and who they needed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, the premise of the original fic was too good to be true and plays with tropes that I've always loved, so this was a no-brainer for me. Blast from the past, I know, but you tempted me with Evil Sam and this had to happen. :D


End file.
